


i don't mind you under my skin

by pendules



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Established Relationship, Goodbyes, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words have never been their strong suit. But maybe they'll have to learn the right ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don't mind you under my skin

Ronan's been having nightmares again. He doesn't ever say it out loud but Adam knows him too well now. Knows what it means when he's quiet and doesn't look at him in the mornings, or when he just holds him close like he's making sure he's real. He doesn't bring anything back with him, accidentally or otherwise. Maybe he's better at controlling it now. Or maybe he's consciously being more careful about it. That thought makes Adam sad in a way he can't quite put his finger on. He thinks about all the dream objects Ronan's given to him that he'll take with him anywhere he goes, like pieces of him to keep and touch, and wonders what Ronan will have of him when he wakes up and Adam's gone. When he's not there to help him dismantle his anger, to put a hand against his breastbone like a reminder, to press his face into the side of his neck until they're breathing in sync, to slowly kiss him until he understands him ( _Hey, you're okay, I'm here_ ) and kisses back.

*

It starts as a joke, it starts with Gansey leaving a list on the fridge at Monmouth with reminders to eat and shower and _sleep, for God's sake_. Ronan's already crossed out about half of it, mostly the ones about drinking and speeding.

Adam rips pages out of his old notebooks and spends hours writing what he thinks he'll need to remember to avoid punching someone or setting fire to something or tearing his own mind to shreds.

He hides them in nooks and crannies all over Monmouth and at the Barns, hoping he'll discover them over time, hoping it'll last, hoping it'll be enough. Proof. Proof that he was here, that _they_ were here. Something to touch and keep that's more than a distant, intangible voice on the phone.

He starts wondering if it's selfish, if he wants Ronan to never be able to escape him even when he's miles and miles away from him. If he wants his absence to permeate every part of his home and his body. Like a contaminant. Like a haunting.

*

They spend their last couple days alone, not talking about dreams, not saying goodbye, not saying much of anything. 

Talking's never been their strong suit. They don't need to, most of the time. Adam's only said the words a handful of times and Ronan just looks at him for a moment, reverently, like he knows what it means for him to be able to say it, before he presses a kiss to his temple. He knows how frustrating it will be for Ronan to not be able to love him with his eyes and his hands and his lips and his dreams. He wonders if his love will even exist without all these things. When there are only words left between them.

Maybe they'll have to learn the right ones.

*

Ronan helps him pack for college the night before he leaves. Maybe he's been putting it off as long as possible, but there isn't a lot anyway.

It's strange, seeing the small room so empty, even it was always pretty sparse to begin with. Ronan being here always seems to fill the space right up though.

He lies next to him afterwards and wonders if this is their last proper night here together. A part of him wishes he didn't have to ever see it again. It wasn't an argument, really, when he told him he'd keep the apartment even though Ronan had offered to let him stay at the Barns with him during breaks. He just — he just likes knowing he has his own space, if needed. He thinks Ronan understands that but he'd taken the key that he had given him anyway, just to reassure him.

He's not sure that Ronan's the one who really needs reassuring though.

He keeps telling himself, over and over again like a mantra, that if they could survive the last year, then this is going to be easy. No death, no magic, just a couple hundred miles between them for eight months out of the year. _Easy._

"What are you thinking?" Ronan asks into his hair.

 _That I miss you already. That I love you. That I'm scared you'll forget about me one day and I won't be able to survive it._ He didn't write any of those things for him to find. He can't give them away so freely. Maybe they make him weak or they make him strong but they belong to him. They're proof of something else. Proof that his insides aren't just dirt and rust and ruin from years of neglect. Proof that blood bright with life is still pumping through him.

"Tell me about your dreams," he says, because Ronan will always give him the truth if he asks for it.

"I already did."

"No, I don't mean — not how you take things out. And not —" _Not the bad ones._ "Just tell me what you dream about."

Ronan goes really still and then he starts talking more than he has in the last few weeks put together.

"Usually, I'm walking through the forest. And sometimes you're there. And I follow you, but it's like I can't ever catch up. Like you're always just out of sight. And then I'm standing on this cliff and you're at the edge, looking down at the water. And I tell you to stop. And you turn around to look at me, but it's like you don't even recognise me, or you look like someone else. And sometimes I wake up right then. Other times, you jump."

Adam lets out a sharp breath and moves onto his side to get closer to him, rests his cheek right over his heart.

He wonders which ending causes which response, the averted eyes or the desperate longing.

Ronan's never going to lie to him. He doesn't know if that makes this harder or easier.

"What do you think happens when I jump?" he asks quietly.

"Maybe I jump in after you."

Maybe that's his real worst fear.

*

Ronan drives him to the airport, and he curls a hand into the front of his shirt as he kisses the corner of his mouth, absolutely unconcerned by the fact that they're in public. 

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

He hands over a small package like it's an afterthought.

It's wrapped neatly in white paper and tied up with string. Adam unknots it carefully and a journal slips out.

It's bound in soft, dark red leather. His initials are on the cover in a gold script. Inside, there's a fountain pen that he's sure will never run out of ink. It's exactly like the kind of thing he would see in fancy store windows and covet, both the object itself and the idea of being the sort of person who would unquestionably own something like that.

"I have one too," Ronan says. "They're a pair. Anything you write in it, I'll see it."

"Is this because I wouldn't let you buy me a cell phone?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Basically." He rolls his eyes. "I found your notes. Well, some of them anyway." But Adam's already figured that out. Ronan knows _him_ too well now, too.

"Keep spoiling me like this and I might never leave." It's a joke, but probably not a very good one for right at this moment.

"That's kind of the point, Parrish," he says, not quite achieving the sarcasm he was going for.

He wants to tell him, _Don't drown on my account, please._

Instead, he hugs him as tightly as he can and then he walks away.

*

_Remember to take care of my shitbox, Lynch._

_Remember to be nice to the trees for me._

_Remember to answer your phone when I call. Jesus._

_Remember to change your oil._

_Remember to use your words._

_Remember that I like all parts of you intact._

_Remember that I know the real reason why you're being a dick._

_Remember that it's okay. It's all okay._

_Remember you're not alone._

_Remember I dream about you too._

_Remember the fireflies the first night we spent at the Barns._

_Remember when you fell asleep in my lap in Cabeswater._

_Remember that time we all went and got gelato._

_Remember driving around at 2am when we couldn't sleep and the roads were empty._

_Remember kissing in the backseat of your car._

_Remember I'll be back soon._

_Remember that you're what I think of when I think about home._


End file.
